Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

A year ago at this time, I subscribed to at least a dozen magazines, two of which arrived in my mailbox weekly. We also subscribed to the local daily newspaper and The New York Times on Sundays. Whoever was our mail deliverer certainly earned that salary.

I had two cooking magazines, two magazines about writing, Chip and Jo Gaines newest venture in decorating design, Smithsonian, Sojourners (the only one of the lot I’d keep forever), a couple AARP intrusions, and one or two stray publications promoting this or that.

But with all this information coming into our home, I found that most of it got skimmed. The rest was ignored. Rather than feeling informed, I felt inundated.

So over this past year, I’ve not re-subscribed when the little notice came in the mail. Not even when the second little notice arrived. The weekly magazines no longer come on Saturday; the cooking magazines have forgotten me. (And, by the way, all the issues I kept have now been reduced to pulp.), and The New York Times lost one avid reader.

But this blog isn’t really about subscriptions. It’s about what happens when you have fewer things to read. It’s about paying more attention to the items on your plate, reading every word and getting along in the world without a constant barrage of information.

I’ve always felt that less is more in many other situations; now I ascribe it to one’s reading materials too.